MY NEXT SERMON

My next preaching engagement will be on the early morning of Thursday 14th May 2026 - 9.00 a.m., Ascension Day Service at The Pepperbox, Whiteparish, Wiltshire. 

SERMON 234 - SUNDAY 10 MAY 2026 - Easter 6

Sermon at St. Mary’s Parish Church, West Grimstead – 6th Sunday in Easter – Sunday 10^th May 2026

Acts 11:22-31; 1 Peter 3:13-22; John 14:15-21

May I speak in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit and may these words be those of you Lord, and may those who hear be blessed. Amen

Homily: “What Does Your God Look Like to You?”
(Based on Acts 11:22–31; 1 Peter 3:13–22; and John 14:15–21)

When you close your eyes and think of God, what comes to mind?
For some, God looks like majesty and power—an unapproachable light that burns with holiness. For others, God looks like tenderness: a shepherd, a parent, a friend who stays close when all else falls away. The truth is, our image of God is often shaped by our experiences—by how we’ve been loved, how we’ve suffered, and how we’ve seen grace at work around us. The Scriptures today invite us to look again at who God truly is—and to allow that image to change us.

1. God Who Looks Like Encouragement and Generosity

In the Acts of the Apostles, we see the early Church at Antioch coming alive in faith. The believers there were from many different backgrounds. When the apostles heard what was happening, they sent Barnabas to encourage them. Barnabas—whose name means “son of encouragement”—saw the grace of God at work and rejoiced. He didn’t come to judge or control; he came to strengthen hearts and recognize goodness.

This is an image of God worth holding close.
What does your God look like? Perhaps God looks like Barnabas—someone who arrives not with condemnation but with a joyful heart, helping others find courage and hope.

Barnabas’s response shows that God delights in us—not in perfection, but in the growth of faith and love. God sees the flicker of goodness within us and breathes it brighter. When we face conflict or uncertainty in our communities, can we be like Barnabas and reflect that same divine encouragement?

Our God, then, is not distant. God looks like a companion who notices grace and calls it forth. God looks like generosity, like open arms welcoming those once seen as outsiders. God looks like joy in unity.

2. God Who Looks Like Courage and Mercy

St. Peter, writing to a scattered and suffering Church, tells us not to fear when we do what is right, even if the world misunderstands us. He reminds us that Christ also suffered for the sake of righteousness—“once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring us to God.”

Here, God looks like enduring love. Not triumphant in worldly terms, but steadfast in mercy. Peter’s words turn our hearts from fear to hope: suffering is not a sign of God’s absence, but of sharing in Christ’s redeeming work.

To say “this is what my God looks like” is to say, “My God is not a stranger to pain.” Our God has scars. Our God stands beside the oppressed, the misunderstood, and the hurting. Our God looks like Jesus before Pilate—silent, yet victorious in truth.

This image of God challenges the false idols of control or comfort. It reminds us that holiness isn’t about escaping the world’s troubles but transforming them from within. So when Peter asks us to be ready to explain the hope within us, he’s asking for more than words—he’s calling us to embody the face of a merciful God.

Perhaps in your life, God has looked like compassion that refuses to give up, or forgiveness that waited patiently for your return. That divine patience, that merciful courage—that is the God Peter knew, and the God we are called to mirror.

3. God Who Looks Like Love Alive Within Us

And in John’s Gospel, Jesus gives the heart of it all: “If you love me, keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever.”

Here we see the deepest truth about God’s appearance—it is love made visible in love. The God of Jesus Christ is not confined to heaven or to history. God dwells within us through the Holy Spirit—the Advocate, the Comforter, the Spirit of truth.

What does that mean for how we imagine God?
It means God looks like love that abides. God looks like someone who refuses to leave us orphaned. God is the light that quietly fills the soul when we pray, the peace that steadies us when all else shakes.

In a world where so many gods are made of power and performance, our God looks different. Our God looks like relationship. A God who calls us friends, who washes feet, who breathes peace. Not a God who demands fear, but a God who invites intimacy.

If we truly believe this, our lives become living icons of what we adore. The way we speak, forgive, and serve becomes the reflection of what our God looks like to us. If our God is kind, we show kindness. If our God is faithful, we stay faithful. If our God is love, then love is what must be seen in us.

4. Seeing and Showing This God Today

So, what does your God look like today?
If you’re carrying grief, God may look like the one who weeps beside you.
If you’re carrying guilt, God may look like the one who runs to embrace you.
If you’re carrying hope, God may look like the smile of someone who believes in you.

And for others, perhaps you will be the face of God today—the gentle word, the patient presence, the helping hand. You may be the Barnabas someone needs. The courage of Peter someone admires. The promise of John’s Jesus someone clings to.

Because God has chosen to dwell in us, all of us together reveal what God looks like. No one’s vision is complete alone. In our diversity as believers—young and old, joyful and weary, certain and questioning—God’s face shines through in countless ways.

The Church in Antioch grew strong not because everyone looked the same or thought the same, but because God’s Spirit was alive in each believer. When the world sees such love among us, when it sees encouragement instead of envy, mercy instead of judgment, and faith instead of fear, then the world sees what our God truly looks like.

Conclusion

So today, perhaps the question is not only “What does your God look like to you?”
It’s also, “When others look at you, what does your God look like through you?”

May the Spirit of truth shape our hearts to reflect the God we know in Christ—
the God who encourages like Barnabas,
who suffers with mercy like Jesus,
and who abides within us as love unending.

Amen.                                                                                                 MFB/234/090520026

 

SERMON 233 - SUNDAY 3 MAY 2026 - Easter 5

Sermon at All Saints’ Parish Church, Farley – 5th Sunday in Easter – Sunday 3rd May 2026

Acts 7:55-60; 1 Peter 2:2-10; John 14:1-14

May I speak in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit and may these words be those of you Lord, and may those who hear be blessed. Amen.

Our three readings this morning are all connected under the shadow of one single sustaining truth – as our hymn we have just sung puts it so clearly – Christ is our cornerstone, on him alone we build.

 At the commencement of the building of any large building or edifice it is always the first, or cornerstone which is placed at the north-east corner of the proposed structure from which the whole building finds its strength and sustainability.  Likewise, Christ is our cornerstone — the living Rock upon which our faith is set, especially when trials and opposition come.

 We heard, from each of our three readings this morning how Scripture has let these passages shape our understanding: Stephen’s dying witness in Acts 7:55–60, Peter’s call to spiritual growth in 1 Peter 2:2–10, and our Lord’s comforting promise in John 14:1–14. Together they teach us how the cornerstone holds us steady, forms us into a living house of faith, and sends us into the world with courage.

 First, let’s look at Acts 7:55–60.  Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit, sees the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. As stones are hurled at him and his life ebbs away, Stephen prays not for vengeance but for mercy: “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit,” and “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” In that moment of violent rejection, Stephen’s faith is not a fragile thing; it is anchored. He has met the cornerstone. Stephen stands with his eyes fixed on the risen Christ, and that vision transforms how he faces death. The cornerstone does not promise us exemption from suffering but it promises a horizon — the presence of Christ — that makes suffering a stage for witness rather than the end of hope.

 Stephen’s example teaches us two crucial lessons. One, when faith is built on Christ, our responses in suffering reflect Christ’s character: mercy, intercession, and trust. Two, the cornerstone is not a solitary refuge but a public acclamation. Stephen’s last words point beyond himself to the judgment and mercy of God; his death becomes a sermon that pierces the hearts of onlookers (Acts tells us that a young man named Saul approved of his execution). The cornerstone, met and confessed, reshapes not only the one who clings to it but those who watch.  That same Saul, of course, later became the great Apostle Paul.

 In our second reading, 1 Peter 2:2–10, Peter speaks to a scattered, suffering people and uses the image of a spiritual house built of living stones with Christ, again, as the cornerstone: “Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk... As you come to him, the living Stone—rejected by men but in God’s sight chosen and precious— you yourselves like living stones are being built up as a spiritual house.” Here Peter invites us into identity and purpose. We are not isolated boulders but living stones, hammered and shaped into place around the cornerstone, just in the same way buildings are constructed.  Just as our church, both the physical building and the community within it, are meant to be.

 This Scripture emphasises nourishment and growth. Newborn babies crave milk; Christians must, also, crave the Word, the truth of Christ, that we might grow. Growth happens in relation to the cornerstone. When we read Scripture, pray, and gather together to worship, we are being set upon the foundation that resists the storms (remember the parable of the man who built his house on sandy foundations!). The cornerstone gives us both our worth and our work. We are chosen and precious because Christ anchors us; we are called to be a spiritual house, a priestly people offering spiritual sacrifices. The cornerstone gives dignity: “You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people.” It also gives commission: as living stones, we serve, intercede, and witness.

 I particularly love the latter part of that passage – the bit about being a royal priesthood.  It reminds us, or should remind us, that as Christ’s chosen, we as Christians have both a Moral and Spiritual duty to take the gospel out, like building materials, to all people so that they too, the non-believers, may have the opportunity to be part of that great edifice of Christian love and faith of which the Cornerstone is unshakeable and fixed for all eternity.

 However, Peter’s image contains a warning as well as a promise. He quotes Isaiah:

 “Behold, I am laying in Zion a stone... a cornerstone and chosen and precious, and whoever believes in him will not be put to shame.”

 But he also says about those who do not believe that the cornerstone becomes “a stone of stumbling and a rock of offence.” The cornerstone demands a response. Those who accept its claim find refuge, identity, and purpose. Those who reject it find a mirror that exposes the heart’s rebellion. Yet even in that hardness of heart, the cornerstone stands. Its firmness is not a threat but a faithfully present remedy for our confusion and rebellion.  Something which I think we need to be ever mindful of in this present state of the world.  This cornerstone, unlike the instability of the political world in which we live, is unchanging and it the true cornerstone upon which we should build our lives and not the ever-changing populist propaganda which confronts us daily.

 Finally, let’s listen to Jesus in John 14:1–14. The disciples are anxious; Thomas and Philip voice their worries. Jesus speaks tenderly: “Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me.” He promises that he goes to prepare a place and that he is the way, the truth, and the life — no one comes to the Father except through him. When faith is built on this, troubled hearts find rest. Jesus does not offer mere words of comfort; he offers himself as the cornerstone that secures our path to the Father. What Jesus promises is relational: abiding with the Father, and the Father abiding with the Son, and with those who keep his word. The cornerstone links us into the life of the Trinitarian God.  Jesus is the way and the only way.  Indeed, early Christians were not called or known as “Christians” but rather “Followers of the Way”.

 From John we also draw a promise of power and presence. Jesus says that whoever believes in him will do the works he does and even greater works because he goes to the Father. The cornerstone is not a passive foundation; it sends forth living stones to act. Faith anchored in Christ is a faith that moves outward: healing, teaching, serving, forgiving. The presence of Christ enables us to live beyond our capacities and to resist the pressures that would otherwise unhinge us.

 When trials come — ridicule, persecution, grief, inner doubt — and let’s be honest, who of us has not been in such situations or had such thoughts and emotions – let us remember Jesus’s words in this passage – that we can find refuge, strength, truth and honesty in The Way of Christ with him as our Cornerstone; as “Followers of the Way”.

 So let us always remember - this Cornerstone is not distant or abstract. He is the Risen Christ who stood at God’s right hand, whom Stephen saw and confessed. He is the living Stone whom Peter calls precious and chosen. He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life Jesus promised in John. When storms come — and they will — we will not be moved because we are not built on shifting sand but on this living Rock.

 

Amen                                                                                           MFB/233/30042026

SERMON 232 - SUNDAY 8 MARCH 2026 - THIRD SUNDAY IN LENT

Sermon at St. Mary’s Church Parish Church, West Dean – 3rd Sunday in Lent  –  Sunday 8th March 2026

John 4 : 1-42

The Samaritan Woman at the Well in Sychar.

 

A Meditative Reflection based on John 4:6-10 (Soul Sisters, Edwina Gateley p65)

I waited for all the other women to return from the well – chattering and laughing, carelessly spilling drops of their precious water as they balanced their jugs on sloping shoulders.  They walked together – they always do – clustering around a story, a bit of news, some whispering gossip, about me, perhaps. Yes – most probably about me.

 

Again, at sunset, the day’s heat cooled, and jugs long emptied, they set out, sharing stories and laughing, sometimes weeping and consoling.  For this is woman-time.

 

I must go alone at noon.  When the village eats and rests behind closed doors I open mine, and furtive, like my clients, I slip into the light and heat alone. Balancing my jug, I move swiftly not daring a slow or leisured pace …

 

Close to the well I stop, scarce believing what I see – a man resting there in woman’s sacred space.  I cannot hide, nor return with an empty jug. But I know I will be condemned … by this brief encounter.  I must not speak.  It is not my place.  I have sinned enough.

 

But it is not I who breaks the rules – the man, a Jew, dares to speak to me!  Does he not know the law? Does he not know? Yet, softly, he speaks to me.

 

“Water, give me water”

 

He – a man – a Jew –

 

Asking me for water!  I can scarce hide my shock.  Ah, but no one has ever looked upon me so tenderly!

 

I must tell him, it is not done, that he should speak to me – but he does.

 

He begins to tell me strange things about “Living Water” – but he has no bucket – how can he give water – he offers water of a different kind, welling up within, an eternal spring that would never dry up. 

From my deep place of longing, I cry out aloud – “Ah, give it to me”

 

A short extempore homily (summarised below) followed this passage reminding us that Jesus went out of his way to travel through Samaria (occupied by people who had a mutual hatred of Jews) at a time of the day when he would meet up with this woman, an outcast within her own society – in fact a meeting of two outcasts as far as the religious Samaritans were concerned – a Jew and a woman of dubious morality.

 

The whole of the reading – John 4:1-42 - reminds us that as Christians we are expected to love all our fellow humans even those who are not like ourselves as well as avoiding prejudice and judgement against those who are different, and to ask ourselves - have we treated people unlike ourselves differently and less favourably in our own lives?  Do we still do so?

 

In today’s world, we are seeing increasingly right-wing leaders and politicians exercising the kind of prejudices which Jesus, literally, went out of his way to stop.  An increasingly worrying trend is the rise of “Christian Nationalism” which seeks to use, or rather abuse Christianity as a weapon against those it seeks to persecute, for political gain or maintenance, in the name of restoring Christian principles in our multicultural society.

 

As true Christians, followers of Jesus Christ, we are instructed by him to continue to spread the true gospel of peace and love, not hatred and war.

 

 

Amen                                                                                                               MFB/232/08032026

SERMON 231 - SUNDAY 8 FEBRUARY 2026 - SECOND SUNDAY BEFORE LENT

Sermon at All Saints’ Church, Farley – 2nd Sunday before Lent  –  Sunday 8th February 2026

Matthew 6:25-34

Why Worry?”

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear… Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?”
— Matthew 6:25, 27

Why Fear?

And as for worry’s cousin “fear”, a former President of the United States once said “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself” – President Franklin Roosevelt.

I have just returned from a 14 nights’ cruise to the western Mediterranean, by way of the Bay of Biscay, with a colleague who was most fearful about the stability of the ship on the high seas and was constantly worrying about the prospect of sailing through heavy seas and being seasick. In fact, as if he was being tested, we did indeed encounter 9-metre waves in the Atlantic yet he was absolutely fine throughout. His worries and fear were totally unnecessary and probably spoiled some of the excitement of being on his first cruise. 

Worry is one of the most common human experiences. It doesn’t matter who you are, how strong your faith is, or how well your life seems to be going—worry finds us all. We worry about money. We worry about health. We worry about our children, our future, our past, our relationships, our work, and sometimes things we can’t even name. Worry has a way of sneaking in quietly and then settling down as if it belongs.

And into that very human condition, Jesus speaks some of the most challenging—and comforting—words in we will find in the Bible - “Do not worry.”

At first, that can sound unrealistic, even dismissive. “Do not worry?” we think. “Have you seen the world we’re living in?” But Jesus is not offering a shallow slogan or a denial of reality. He is offering a radical reorientation of how we see life, God, and ourselves.

Jesus begins by addressing the basics: food, drink, clothing—the necessities of life. These were not small concerns in the first century. For many people, daily survival was uncertain. Yet Jesus says, “Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?” In other words, if God has given us life itself, should we really believe He will abandon u when it comes to sustaining that life?

To make His point, Jesus tells us to look around. Look at the birds of the air. They do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet, he says, your heavenly Father feeds them. Look at the lilies of the field. They do not labour or spin, yet even Solomon in all his splendour was not dressed like one of these.

Jesus is inviting us to notice something we often forget: creation itself is a testimony to God’s care. The birds are not lazy; they still search for food. The flowers still grow according to their nature. But they are not consumed by anxiety about tomorrow. They live within the care of the One who made them.

Then Jesus asks a piercing question: “Are you not much more valuable than they?”

This is where worry often reveals its deeper issue. Worry is not just about circumstances; it is about trust. When we worry excessively, we are not simply acknowledging that life is uncertain—we are quietly assuming that we are alone in that uncertainty.

There’s an old saying sailors use when things go wrong: “Worse things happen at sea”, probably a phrase which was very much in the mind of my travelling companion on that recent cruise voyage. However, it’s a way of putting trouble into perspective. Yes, this is hard. Yes, this is unpleasant. But it is not the end of the world. That phrase carries a kind of grounded wisdom. It reminds us that difficulty is part of life, but difficulty is not the final word.

Jesus says something similar when He reminds us that worrying does not actually help. “Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?” The answer, of course, is no. If anything, worry shortens life, drains joy, clouds judgment, and steals peace.

It’s often said—and studies back this up—that about 98% of the things we worry about never actually happen. Think about that for a moment. Almost everything that keeps us awake at night, knots our stomachs, and dominates our thoughts never comes to pass; and even when difficult things do happen, they rarely happen in the way we imagined. We therefore end up suffering twice: once in our imagination and once, maybe, in reality.

Worry, then, is a terrible investment. It costs us a great deal and returns nothing.

But Jesus doesn’t just tell us to stop worrying; He tells us why we can stop worrying. “Your heavenly Father knows that you need all of these things.” God is not ignorant of our needs. He is not distant. He is not indifferent. The same God who clothes the grass of the field—which is here today and gone tomorrow—knows your name, your fears, your needs, and your future.

This is where faith comes in—not faith as wishful thinking, but faith as trust in a faithful God. Jesus says, “Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.”

Notice what He does not say. He does not say, “Ignore your responsibilities.” He does not say, “Pretend problems don’t exist.” He says, “Put first things first.” Make God the centre, not the margins. Let your life be oriented around His kingdom rather than your fears.

When we put our faith in God through Jesus, we are not promised a worry-free life—but we are promised a life that is not ruled by worry. Through Jesus, we come to know God not as a distant power, but as a loving Father. At the cross, we see just how far God is willing to go for us. If God did not spare His own Son, do we really believe He will abandon us in the details of daily life?

Faith does not remove tomorrow’s challenges, but it does remove tomorrow’s weight from today. Jesus ends this passage by saying, “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” That is not pessimism; it is realism paired with hope. Jesus acknowledges that each day has trouble—but He also implies that each day has sufficient grace too.

We are called to live one day at a time, trusting God one step at a time. Worry pulls us into a future we cannot control. Faith anchors us in the present, where God’s grace is always available.

So when worry rises—and it will—perhaps we can remember a few simple truths. Worse things happen at sea, and yet people survive storms they never thought they could. Most of what we fear will never happen. And the God who holds the universe together has promised to hold us as well.

Worry says, “What if?”
Faith says, “Even if.”

Even if things don’t go as planned.
Even if the road is harder than expected.
Even if answers don’t come right away.

Even if—God is still God. And we are still His beloved children.

May we hear Jesus’ words not as a rebuke, but as an invitation. An invitation to lay down burdens we were never meant to carry. An invitation to trust the One who knows what we need before we ask. An invitation to live not in fear of tomorrow, but in confidence in God today.

Amen                                                                                                         MFB/231/05022026

SERMON 230 - SUNDAY 11 JANUARY 2026 - BAPTISM OF CHRIST/EPIPHANY 1

Sermon at West Dean, St. Mary’s Parish Church, - Baptism of Christ  –  Sunday 11th January 2026

Isaiah 42:1-9; Acts 10:34-43; Matthew 3:13-17

Today we celebrate the Baptism of Christ by John the Baptist in the River Jordan; but as well as being such a celebration we are still in the Season of Epiphany – that time when we remember the coming of the wise men or “kings” bearing three prophetic gifts to the infant Jesus – gold to represent his kingship, frankincense to represent his holiness or divinity and myrrh, that perfume with which the dead are anointed to represent the great sacrifice he would later make for all.

The two New Testament readings, one from Acts and one from Matthew’s Gospel, remind us that Jesus, the King of Kings, came not just to establish a heavenly kingdom for the Jews but for all humankind. Peter, in his speech to the household of Cornelius, a Roman centurion, a leader of the forces occupying Judea, makes this point that Jesus Christ, the Messiah, came not to remove those occupying forces and re-establish Jewish sovereignty, but as the Son of God, establishing a universal kingdom far more important and enduring.

Christianity as a global phenomenon was being established and a desire for the whole world to realise the importance of following Christ and being united.  This is why the words of Peter, like John in our second reading are so important in understanding this. Peter reminds his listeners, and readers of Acts, that the message of the Gospel, the Good News as it is sometimes described, starts at this point with Jesus’s baptism. It is an outward illustration of God’s power and Jesus’s mission.

Like John the Baptist, I found it difficult, at first, to understand why John should have to baptise Jesus.  In an earlier piece of scripture John had remarked that “one would follow me whose sandals I am not fit to carry” (Matt 3 v11). John was the forward messenger and although people had been baptised as an act of showing repentance, or metanoia, a turning back to God and cleansing themselves of their past sinful life. We do this today in our churches and sometimes in rivers.  Jesus, as the divine Son of God surely had no reason to undertake this ritual and symbolic cleansing – after all he is God.

However, with Jesus would come the Holy Spirit to all who wanted it – “He will baptise you with the Holy Spirit and Fire”, had said John earlier – in other words not only will you be changed through the cleansing of your body as a symbol of washing away the old tainted ways, but you will also have something brand new bestowed upon you. 

John therefore challenges Jesus as to why he should be baptised and at the end of this passage we learn the reason in one of the most emotional pieces of scripture –

“They saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him; and a voice from heaven said “This is my Son, whom I love, with him I am well pleased”.

This passage of scripture, this description of Jesus’s baptism is an affirmation of the divinity of Jesus, yet born as a human and living amongst humans here on Earth. It is also a positive sign to John that his ministry, as the one who comes before, was a true one and that he has now himself observed the long-awaited Messiah. It is also a reminder to us of God’s great love for us in sending his Son to live, minister and die for us.  That is the same reminder and story which Peter is giving out in his speech in our Second Reading.

None of this, actually, should come as a surprise to anyone, then and now, as it was foretold in the Old Testament. In our first reading from Isaiah we read:

“Thus says the Lord, Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen in whom my soul delights, I have put the Spirit upon him and he will bring forth justice to the nations.”

I get really excited when I read these passages – Isaiah foretelling the coming of Jesus, the Christ, the Messiah; the actual biographical narrative in Matthew’s Gospel and, finally, a reminder and a summary of what went on and why in Luke’s account of Peter’s speech to the Gentiles.

When I practised law, I used to get the same delightful feeling when a case hung together nicely and tightly with no room for ambiguity. We called it the “stick of rock” theory – simply described, the first lick at the beginning should have “Cleethorpes” in it as should the last bit. If somewhere between the two you suddenly come across “Brighton” or “Skegness” for example you do not have something of integrity.

Another lovely piece of connectivity is the description of a dove (the symbol of peace) as the Holy Spirit descending on him. You will recall that after the devastation of the Great Flood, it was a dove which came back to Noah’s Ark with an olive branch in its beak to indicate that the cleansing of the world, by the Great Flood, was now over and a new world can begin; it is also the dove which for generations has been the symbol for peace and the messenger of peace throughout the world; a symbol of new beginnings and of understanding between all peoples.  At this time of such turmoil and uncertainty and, can I dare say it, the prospect of some global conflict at our doorstep, we need to be messengers of peace and love, we need to carry the light of Christ before us and into this ever-darkening world.

With the Holy Spirit descending upon Jesus, he was able to share that spirit with all who came to him and sought and followed his ministry and, as we know following his death, resurrection and ascension, at Pentecost the Spirit descended upon all who sought it.  That is precisely where we find ourselves today.  The Wise Men came bearing gifts to the infant Jesus, Jesus himself, through his ministry, death and resurrection has bestowed the greatest gift of all, the Holy Spirit, free and unconditionally to all who seek it.  Actually, there is one condition, and that is that having received it you do not grieve it – that is do not renounce it or denigrate.

I believe the world is, today, hungrier for the Holy Spirit than at any other time.  Sometimes we get so caught up with our own little worlds that we forget that we all live in one greater world; but it is not all that great.  We are all living on a planet, a spaceship which is less than 8,000 miles in diameter in the vastness of a cold and hostile universe, billions and billions of light years across – if it has any boundaries.  It is the only home we have and really one which we can only ever have this side of the grave.  Jesus, we are told by John, came into the world to save the world not to condemn it.

A few years ago I watched the movie “Don’t Look Up” starring Jennifer Lawrence, Mark Rylance and Leo DiCaprio.  It is a little wacky but the essence of it is that in today’s modern age we spend a lot of time looking down at our devices and accepting what social media is saying, or not saying, and not enough time looking up and around us and discovering reality for ourselves. In the case of this film there is a large comet heading straight for Earth which will destroy the planet in six months’ time. The politicians and media people don’t seem to care, worrying more about mid-term elections and the love lives of celebrities.  In fact, social media and politicians start a campaign doubting the existence of the comet despite the scientists’ assurances.  Does that ring any bells? 

In fact since I watched that film in 2021, it seems that its relevance to what we saw going on in 2025 and continuing in 2026 is greater than ever!  People are listening and relying more and more on the “15 – minutes of social media experts”, rather than any true experts in their dedicated fields.  Jesus, we should remind ourselves is the Truth and the Light.

Sometimes, I think that those of us who know the true nature of God’s love and compassion for Humankind are crying in the wilderness just like John, but cry we must otherwise we have no chance of being heard at all if we totally give in or give up.

I am reminded of a notice displayed at Auschwitz I Concentration camp in Poland written by Pastor Martin Niemoller which reads

“First they came for the Communists

 And I did not speak out Because I was not a Communist

Then they came for the Socialists and I did not speak out Because I was not a Socialist

 Then they came for the trade unionists and I did not speak out Because I was not a trade unionist

Then they came for the Jews and I did not speak out Because I was not a Jew

 Then they came for me and there was no one left to speak out for me.”

John the Baptist spoke out and encouraged those around him to repent – metanoia; to look at things afresh. To wash away the old and tainted and to step out clean, refreshed and into a new world with Jesus Christ as our king and saviour. As true Christians we should honour the pledges he made on our behalf – to move forward with the aid of the Holy Spirit, never grieving it but upholding it, promoting it and its powers and making disciples of others and having no fear for Jesus is with us, within us and around us.

God bless you all in your continued fellowship and ministry here in West Dean over the next twelve months and may you too have the courage to speak out and proclaim the Good News of Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit here within us now.

Amen                                                                                           MFB/230/07012026

(An updated version of Sermon 168 and 211 delivered in 2022 and 2025 respectively).

SERMON 229 - THURSDAY 25 DECEMBER 2025 - CHRISTMAS DAY

Sermon at St. Mary’s Church, West Dean - Christmas Day Morning Communion – Sunday 25 December 2025 (Adapted from Sermon 209)

Isaiah 9:2-7; Titus 2:11-14; Luke 2:1-20 

May I speak in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit and may the words which I speak be a blessing to all who hear them. Amen.

“Are you all prepared for today’s celebration? Turkey in the oven, potatoes and brussels pealed, presents opened already or under the tree waiting to be unwrapped? Prosecco in the fridge chilling?  Do you know what films you will be watching after the King’s Speech or games you will be playing?”

That is how I started my Christmas Day sermon last year and the year before that when I led the service at Farley and it is a great honour and privilege to be with you here at West Dean on this very special day. It really doesn’t seem a year since last Christmas Day – and how the world seems to have changed, and not for the better, over the last twelve months and I feel that, more than ever, there is a great need for the Christian message of Good News to be broadcast, not least within our own country.

Christmas is a time of great joy, expectancy and celebration. Yet, all too often, we lose ourselves in the preparations and miss the sacredness of the season. Why does it matter? Because it’s this holiday on which we honour the birth of our Saviour. It’s this time of year when people are open to the things of God. And it’s precisely this season when Christians most often lose sight of what’s available to them in Christ Jesus.

We are all people created in God’s image. We have access to his presence and his promises. So why all the strain and stress? Dare we ask ourselves what honestly matters most to us this Christmas?

Advent is a period of waiting and preparation – and now, today, is the day of on which all those preparations come to fruition and after today we enter that period of Epiphany which is a time available to us for some rest and reflection.

God invites us to push away the clutter, turn down the noise and offer him the sacred space in our lives so that the King of Glory may enter, take up residence and radically change us from the inside out. We can race through our holiday season more stressed than blessed or we can slow down, ponder the reality of Christ within us, and respond to his miraculous work.

At that first Christmas, God sent Jesus into the world as a Man, to be God himself incarnate to dwell among us and after His resurrection and ascension, Jesus went on to leave the Holy Spirit in each and every one of us willing to accept and acknowledge Him. To truly live within us.

In fact, it is good to remember that God sent Jesus into the world for all Human Kind not just the chosen. We should all work together as a Team not divided by greed, envy, conflict, poverty, race, creed, colour or any of the other many things which separate us.

The one great message or result of Christmas, the coming of Christ, is that it is meant to banish one word from our language, “them”. There should no longer be “them and us” anymore.  To illustrate this, I would just like to share the following with you to reflect upon over this next week:

The twentieth-century English mystic Caryll Houselander (1901–1954) describes how an ordinary underground train journey in London transformed into a powerful vision of Christ dwelling in all people: 

“I was in an underground train, a crowded train in which all sorts of people jostled together, sitting and strap-hanging—workers of every description going home at the end of the day. Quite suddenly I saw with my mind, but as vividly as a wonderful picture, Christ in them all. But I saw more than that; not only was Christ in every one of them, living in them, dying in them, rejoicing in them, sorrowing in them—but because He was in them, and because they were here, the whole world was here too … all those people who had lived in the past, and all those yet to come.  

Houselander’s vision of the intimate presence of Christ in each person continued as she walked along the city streets:  

I came out into the street and walked for a long time in the crowds. It was the same here, on every side, in every passer-by, everywhere—Christ…. 

I saw too the reverence that everyone must have for a sinner; instead of condoning [their] sin, which is in reality [their] utmost sorrow, one must comfort Christ who is suffering in [them]. And this reverence must be paid even to those sinners whose souls seem to be dead, because it is Christ, who is the life of the soul, who is dead in them; they are His tombs, and Christ in the tomb is potentially the risen Christ…. 

Christ is everywhere; in Him every kind of life has a meaning and has an influence on every other kind of life…. Realization of our oneness in Christ is the only cure for human loneliness. For me, too, it is the only ultimate meaning of life, the only thing that gives meaning and purpose to every life. 

After a few days the “vision” faded. People looked the same again, there was no longer the same shock of insight for me each time I was face to face with another human being. Christ was hidden again; indeed, through the years to come I would have to seek for Him, and usually I would find Him in others—and still more in myself—only through a deliberate and blind act of faith.”

 

This Christmas and New Year we see the world in chaos and the potential escalation of many local conflicts in the Middle East, Eastern Europe and South America into a major war. We daily read in our newspapers, hear on our radios and see on our screens, the inhumanity of Humanity. We hear and view the dreadful news coming from Gaza, Lebanon, Syria, Ukraine, Venezuela, even now Australia and many other parts of the world and the triumph of brutal and tyrannical leaders.

The king of the universe is not a tyrannical leader. He’s the saviour of the world. Although we hear the Christmas story every year, again and again, it isn’t old news. It’s good news. It’s now news! Salvation isn’t just an addendum to the end of our life and Christmas isn’t just a quaint little story with shepherds and wise men coming to a stable in Bethlehem. When Jesus was born, God’s kingdom came to earth! so we ought to celebrate with joy. Jesus came, and he’s coming again. Let us worship the king of glory, with hymns, carols and prayers, but also, let us also worship him by the kindly and empathic way we speak and act towards others over this Christmas period.  For many, too, Christmas is a difficult time especially for those recently bereaved, and, this year, there seem to be more deletions from my Christmas card list – a time to reflect, perhaps, on our own mortality too.

When we set out to be a serious follower of Christ, we’ll often find a thousand excuses to tend to temporary things as though they’re the most important things in the world. But eternal rewards come from eternal priorities. We need to think higher, see deeper. Repeatedly, Jesus urged people to open their eyes and see the coming kingdom. See the story God is writing on the earth through us because of Jesus. Our current season is packed with eternal possibilities to do so.

We can and should change our focus, determine our pace, adjust our priorities and this could be our most life-giving Christmas yet. Whether we already walk intimately with Jesus or see him more like a distant relative, we can be assured, as illustrated in Caryll Houselander’s vision that he’s very near and that he came to redeem every aspect of who we are. That was the greatest gift ever given at Christmas – the birth of Jesus Christ, God Incarnated, in that humble stable in the Holy Land.  Let there be no more “them and us” but just “us”.

Now that is really something to celebrate and reflect upon over these coming days.

Have a great day, enjoy being with family and friends over this holiday period, and yes do eat, drink and be merry in celebration but do use this time also to tell somebody about the true meaning of Christmas and the wonderful good news which is there for everyone and is the real reason for our celebrations.

A very Happy and Blessed Christmas to you all.

 

 

Susie Larson (who inspired this sermon through a daily devotional piece written by her) is a bestselling author, speaker and host of Susie Larson Live. She is the author of more than 20 books and devotionals, and her Daily Blessings reach over half a million people each week on social media. She and her husband, Kevin, have three children, a growing bunch of grandchildren and a pit bull named Memphis.

 

Amen                                                                                                 MFB/229/23122025